Careless And Stupid
by iamtheparadoxoflife
Summary: Plotless Thommy fluff :) Jimmy gets drunk and stupid, Thomas scolds, Thomas/Daisy brOTP.
1. Chapter 1

"Merry Christmas," Jimmy slurred in Thomas' ear. He was very drunk, everyone was in the servant's hall, and Thomas was worried. _Oh God, he's so _stupid _when he's drunk. What if he gives us away? _He was already standing much too close to Thomas, _much _too close. Close enough to elicit some conspiratorial smiles from that confounded Bates and his marred-by-association wife.

"Jimmy," the under butler said in a warning tone.

"Yeah, Thomas?" the footman slurred. "Look, I'm damn tired of hiding."

_Shit. _"Jimmy!" he hissed again, trying to drag the younger man out of the hall.

"Hey, everyone!" the footman yelled.

Thomas' face was turning red, as he tried to stop the ticking time bomb. Now that everyone was looking at him, he couldn't very well _drag _Jimmy up the stairs. Not if wanted to keep _that night _out of everyone's heads.

"Everyone! I'm in love with Thomas Barrow and he's in love with me. I thought you should know. You know, with all the other couples around here." He gestured drunkenly to the Bates', and to Alfred, who was leaned against the wall talking to Daisy.

Everyone in the room was staring at Jimmy with varying amounts of shock and disgust. Thomas realized with relief that Mr. Carson was not in the room. _Oh thank the Lord. _

O'brien looked positively _gleeful, _and she glanced up to see if Mr. Carson had heard, and her face dropped a little when she realized he wasn't there.

Any possible ways to do any sort of damage control slipped Thomas' mind. He was out of practice with lies and scandals and things like that. _Never thought I'd regret _that _decision. _Taking a deep breath, he looked coldly at Jimmy. "Go to bed, Jimmy. Just _go._"

The silence of the servant's hall was palpable, and made the words resonate. Thankfully, though, the footman listened, and went up the stairs, stumbling loudly as he did.

_What a Christmas. Just when I thought I had the chance to be happy... _"Huh," he said instead, lighting a cigarette, putting on a show of confidence and grace. "Funny the things people say when alcohol is involved. _From the mouths of footmen._"

"Is it...true?" Alfred asked, in pure disgust.

Thomas took a deep breath, and lied smoothly, "What do _you _think, Alfred? He was just being cruel is all."

Mrs. Hughes was chuckling to herself, and Thomas glared at her, then addressed the staff. "I trust that Mr. Carson will not be hearing a word of this?" As under butler, the power to say these things flowed easily from his mouth, but the bite behind only came at times like these. He looked at each person individually.

"What is it that I will not be hearing of, Mr. Barrow?"

Thomas jumped. _Godfuckingdammit. _

He faltered, but Anna (bless that woman!) spoke up. "It's nothing, Mr. Carson. Just that our James may have had a bit too much to drink. We sent him up to bed."

Carson nodded at the believable (and partly true) story. It wasn't a lie, exactly.

Feeling sick with his good luck, and with his anxiety, Thomas gave Alfred, the almost-but-not-quite-as-drunk-as-Jimmy-Molesly and a couple of the hall boys significant looks, then stepped out for a bit of air, saying behind him as an afterthought, "Fancy a smoke, Miss O'brien?"

Such familiar words. For years, he'd said them pretty much every day. But it had certainly been a while.

They stood silently together, and for a moment, Thomas was able to pretend nothing had happened between them. _Yes, _she was vindictive bitch, but he missed her snark and subtlety. Jimmy was...amazing. He was everything Thomas had ever wanted and more, but he didn't have the same wickedly terrifying sense of humor his old friend had.

_Focus, Barrow! The task at hand! Damage control, damage control! _

"I could get you sacked now," she began, then realized how to cut him up more. "_Both _of you."

"No, Miss O'brien," he said in a sarcastically amiable voice. "You cannot. Not without coming down with me. I know things, remember." _Her ladyship's soap. _Thank God she'd told him when it happened. It was the reason he still had his job, and probably a few other things besides.

_"I'll get you." _

"I've no doubt you will." But today, he had won. And today was all that mattered. He was _done _with schemes and scrambling and threats. He _had _what he wanted. He was _happy_.

She dropped her cigarette in the snow, turned on her heel, and stormed back inside.

Alone, finally, Thomas was able to think about what had happened back in the servant's hall. Anger and fear gripped the man's chest and stomach. Without warning, he was violently sick into the snow.

"Fuck you, Jimmy," he muttered. "Fuck. You." Thomas kicked at the snow in a rage if emotions and therelackof, then took off running, still muttering curses. "I love you, Jimmy, but fuck, you're so _careless _and _stupid." Jesus, I'm one to talk about careless and stupid. _

Cold and tired and tasting of vomit, Thomas collapsed. Sobs of helplessness wracked his entire body. Even when he was _happy, _even when when someone loved him, he _still _had to act and hide and pretend.

He wasn't mad at Jimmy. He was mad at the whole damn world. He was mad that what had been said was cause for alarm. Mad that because he loved someone, it was _wrong. _But he was _not_ mad at Jimmy. (The only other exceptions to this hatred of the world were Anna - why again, was she with that blasted Bates? - and Lady Sybil. Or rather, the memory of Lady Sybil. Of Nurse Crawley. And possibly Daisy.)

Calming down, Thomas crunched through the now back to Downton. _We're still going to have a talk, though. In the morning. _His mind wandered to his poor love, probably passed out by now, but he hadn't had a glass of water before going to sleep...he was going to be _very _hungover.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jimmy," Thomas whispered, shaking the younger man awake. "Please wake up, love."

He was meant with an incoherent moan.

"Jimmy, seriously. You're late already. Get up."

Every morning, the very lowest hall boy ran by the doors, knocking loudly, waking up every member of the male staff. Today, Thomas had come out of his room to find that Jimmy wasn't waiting for him like usual by the stairwell. Guessing what had happened, he'd taken the ridiculous risk and stepped into Jimmy's room to wake him up.

"_Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh._ Why the _fuck _did I drink all that fucking whiskey? _Fucking _Molesly, Imma _fucking _murder 'im."

"Whatever you do when you get downstairs, you need to get down there, or Carson'll bust your ass." Thomas sat down next to Jimmy on the bed, pulled him up in a kiss, which Jimmy half-heartedly returned.

"Don't do that, I feel like such shit right now. But I'm up. I'll meet you downstairs."

"We need to talk later," The under-butler added, looking back from the doorway on his way out the door. "And before you ask, yes, it's bad."

_It's mean. I know that. But he deserves to suffer a little. He made us both look like idiots last night. _

"Mr. Barrow, is there any particular _reason _you came downstairs with a _rip _in your jacket?"

_Yes Mr. Carson, I ripped it specially for you, what do you think, you old bastard? _"No, Mr. Carson, I'll go fix it straightaway."

"See that you do."

All of a sudden, Mrs. Patmore in the kitchen started screaming shrilly, a familiar sound in the morning, but it was usually at Ivy or Daisy, both of whom were in the servant's hall at the moment. They glanced at each other, amused and confused. Thomas snorted to himself, wondering what poor sod was in there, who had made the mistake. First incoherently, then, "GET YOUR _FILTHY _PAWS OFF MY COOKING! EVEN IF YOU WERE STEALING IT FOR YOUR _PRECIOUS _MR BARROW, THAT'S NO EXCUSE! GET OUT! GET _OUT!" _

Thomas bit his lip, watching Mr. Carson's confusion, watching him quietly mouth the words, _precious Mr Barrow, _to himself with an almost amusing crinkle of his ridiculous eyebrows.

"Long story, Mr. Carson, but it involves lots of alcohol and James making a cruel joke last night," Thomas supplied. "It's really nothing."

"Are you sure? As I have told you time after time, I do _not _want _scandal _in this house!"

"_Yes, _Mr. Carson, I _understand _that." Thomas hated himself for being so subservient to an old dimwit like Carson. _That is my job, I suppose. Being subservient. How the fuck did I end up here? _

Jimmy walked into the servant's hall with a burning red face. "That was eventful."

Thomas snorted, again. Ivy laughed aloud. "Great, Jimmy, thank you. For the first time in a month she didn't yell at us instead!"

"Glad to have been of service," Jimmy said, brightening up a little, giving her a quick wink. Even _knowing _it was just part of their little act, Thomas felt a twinge of jealousy. He wanted Jimmy to be _his _and his alone.

Jimmy looked up as if he could feel it, and gave Thomas a shy smile, which disappeared quickly when Mrs. Hughes walked into the room.

Over breakfast, Mr. Carson announced the day's schedule. It was to be an easy day: the only one in the house today would be Lord and Lady Grantham and Branson. Thomas refused to think the "Mr" in front of the latter.

The day unfolded in the almost-monotony of the last two years, Thomas and Jimmy having to just shoot quick glances at each other for the deathly fear of being caught being too _familiar _and diligently working their arses off for rich people who really didn't give a shit about them, being bossed around by an insufferable old man and competing with ex-friends and martyrish valets they couldn't hate but they did anyway, enduring it all for the hope of a few minutes together in bed before they had to get some sleep in order to just do it all again.

And the strangest part? _Thomas was loving it. _He had never been happy up until now, but Jimmy made the familiar Downton life seem distinct and interesting every day. He had his bad days, of course, war flashbacks and stupid arguments with Jimmy and wondering at the futility of it all, but it was all okay.

_Love does strange things to people. _


	3. Chapter 3

Later that day, after serving the upstairs luncheon and finally having a moment to himself, Thomas makes eye contact with Jimmy as they pass in the hallway, and holds three fingers behind his back. Jimmy fake sneezed in response. Code successful. They'd rendezvous in three minutes in the abandoned attic crawlspace they'd taken over as their own.

"I'm sorry Alfred," Thomas heard Jimmy say theatrically. "But I've simply _got _to up to my room and catch five minutes of air. This cold is really bothering me."

"Alright. Make sure you're down before the dressing gong or Mr Carson'll have your head."

"Noted. Thanks Al." In the last two years, Jimmy had become more tolerant of Alfred as well.

Two minutes and thirty seconds later, Thomas was sitting criss cross on the floor of the dark cocoon, as he thought of it. Three knocks to the trapdoor that led up to it sounded and Thomas pushed it open. There was a cord that could open it from below, but it was ritual to knock instead.

"Hey," Jimmy whispered, pulling Thomas into a kiss, sending chills down his spine and making him blush slightly. He feels Jimmy smile in sheer enchantment. _Two years and I'm still not over that. I hope I never am. _

The kiss went deeper, Thomas' hands went to Jimmy's sides, producing little sighs. After a minute or two, both men came to their senses. "You wanted to talk to me about something?" Jimmy muttered, suddenly abashed, seeming to remember the look on Thomas's face that morning.

"You really need to stop drinking. It's becoming a problem."

"Why? Yes, this morning was shit, but...wait, did something happen last night?"

"Only you announcing to the entire. damn. servant's. hall. that you were in love with me."

Jimmy groaned and put his head in his hands. "Fuck. Wait...oh. That's why Mrs. Patmore called you 'my precious Mr. Barrow' this morning, isn't it? How are we still _here?" _

"Because you're mean enough that I could play it off as you being drunk and vindictive."

"As the pot said to the kettle."

Thomas rolls his eyes. "Doesn't matter. But seriously...no more drinking, okay?"

Jimmy nods, and they kiss again, falling over sideways, giggling, curl up together, completely oblivious to the world.

Perhaps if they hadn't been so oblivious, or if they had the good sense to take the cord up so no one could open the trapdoor, they wouldn't be staring at that moment into the horrified face of Daisy Mason.


	4. Chapter 4

"Daise, it's not what it looks like!" Thomas exclaimed, watching the range of emotions play out on her face. Shock, first. Then disgust. Acceptance. Realization. Anger.

She pursed her lips together, swelling up and looking disturbingly like Mrs. Patmore. Then she opened her mouth, and Daisy yelled angrily, for the first time in her life, really let loose.

"THOMAS BARROW! DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT THE REASON YOU NEVER LIKED ME, THE REASON I CRIED MY EYES OUT SOME NIGHTS THINKING I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR THE GREAT THOMAS BARROW WAS BECAUSE YOU LIKE _MEN_? DON'T YOU THINK YOU COULD HAVE TAKEN _FIFTEEN SECONDS_ OUT OF YOUR LIFE AND _TOLD ME THAT_ SO I DIDN'T SPEND _FOUR YEARS_ THINKING I WAS EVEN MORE INFERIOR THAN I ALREADY THOUGHT I WAS!?"

It was so completely unexpected and out of character for someone like Daisy to make a speech like that, it took Thomas a moment to recover. He realized heavily that she was right to be angry, and said as apologetically as he could, "I thought you'd be disgusted."

"I _am _disgusted. You didn't _tell me. _You are the _worst person I have ever me_t, Thomas Barrow! The absolute _worst." _She spun on her heel and stormed in the other direction.

_Dammit. _Thomas looked at his relationship with Daisy often, and regretted bitterly the way he'd treated her. They had become friends in the last two years, and he came to genuinely like her, to love her even, in a protective older brother type of way.

"Daisy, wait!" he yelled, running to catch up with her, not looking at Jimmy.

"I don't want to talk to you," she said angrily, not looking at him.

"Daise, I'm so sorry. I should have been more honest with you. It was...wrong of me to lead you on, and it was wrong of me to hide things from you."

She stopped walking, and turned to face him, shaking her head sadly. She searched Thomas' earnest face and finally shook her head and smiled. "Well...that solves that." Then her smile turned cheeky. "So...James, huh?"

Thomas rolled his eyes, put an arm around her. "Yes, Jimmy."

"_Huh_. Wait, so yesterday in the Servant's Hall..."

"Yeah."

She squeezed his good hand quickly. "Ivy's going to be heartbroken."

"_Don't you dare tell Ivy. _Please, Daisy, we're trying to keep this a secret."

"Why?"

"Because it's illegal."

"Why?"

Thomas' breath caught. She was a beautiful little thing, an uncomplicated, kind and innocent girl. No wonder William had loved her so much. There was not a way to explain to her why his type of love was illegal, one that didn't hurt to say. Finally he said, "Because people are...I don't know, really. It just is. And it's sad because people end up getting hurt. It's still love, but they don't like to acknowledge that. So you have to promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Am I the only one who knows?" she asks, looking at him with those huge innocent eyes he cared so much for.

"Near enough to it," he answers. "If anyone else picked it up, it's just speculation."

She bit her lip. "Really...really, Thomas? Huh. I just never..."

"I know."

"Oh! I needed to get something out of the attic! That's why I was there in the first place!"

And just like that, it was over. As they turned and headed back for the trapdoor, Jimmy was standing there fidgeting.

_It's fine, _Thomas mouthed over Daisy's head. _We're fine. _

Jimmy smiled, mouthed back, _Not the first time we've come close._

"Somehow..." Thomas mused aloud. "Day after day, week after week, we figure it out."

Daisy turned around. "Don't we all?"

And isn't that the theme of the world? We figure things out as we go along. Day by day. Week by week. We just try to love who we love and do what makes us happy and try to live our lives. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

~End~


End file.
